Dance smiled and said, "Music."
In fact she hadn't taken a single class on that campus of the University of California. She'd been a busker--a musician playing guitar and singing for money on the streets of Berkeley--very little money, in her case.
"So, how you doing with all of this?"
Caitlin's eyes went flat. She muttered, "Not so great. I mean, it's so terrible. The accident, that was one thing. But then, what happened to Tammy and Kelley . . . that was awful. How is she?"
"Kelley? We don't know yet. Still in a coma."
One of the friends had overheard and called, "Travis bought this poison gas online. Like from neo-Nazis."
True? Or rumor?
Dance said, "Caitlin, he's disappeared. He's hiding somewhere and we have to find him before he causes more harm. How well did you know him?"
"Not too good. We had a class or two together. I'd see him in the halls sometimes. That's all."
Suddenly she started in panic and her eyes jumped to a nearby stand of bushes. A boy was pushing his way through them. He looked around, retrieved a football and then returned into the foliage for the field on the other side.
"Travis had a crush on you, right?" Dance pressed on.
"No!" she said. And Dance deduced that the girl did in fact think this; she could tell from the rise in the pitch of her voice, one of the few indicators of deception that can be read without the benefit of doing a prior baseline.
"Not just a little?"
"Maybe he did. But a lot of boys . . . You know what it's like." Her eyes did a sweep of Dance--meaning: boys might've had a crush on you too. Even if it was a long, long time ago.
"Did you two talk?"
"Sometimes about assignments. That's all."
"Did he ever mention anyplace he liked to hang out at?"
"Not really. Nothing, like, specific. He said there were some neat places he liked to go. Near the water, mostly. The shore reminded him of some places in this game he played."
This was something, that he liked the ocean. He could be hiding out in one of the shorefront parks. Maybe Point Lobos. In this land of temperate climate he could easily survive with a waterproof sleeping bag.
"Does he have any friends he might be staying with?"
"Really, I don't know him real well. But he didn't have any friends I ever saw, not like my girlfriends and me. He was, like, online all the time. He was smart and everything. But he wasn't into school. Even at lunch or study period, he'd just sit outside with his computer and if he could hack into a signal he'd go online."
"Are you scared of him, Caitlin?"
"Well, yeah." As if it was obvious.
"But you haven't said anything bad about him on The Chilton Report or social networking sites, have you?"
"No."
What was the girl so upset about? Dance couldn't read her emotions, which were extreme. More than just fear. "Why haven't you posted anything about him?"
"Like, I don't go there. It's bullshit."
"Because you feel sorry for him."
"Yeah." Caitlin frantically played with one of the four studs in her left ear. "Because . . ."
"What?"